Broken Glass
by dandelionbread10
Summary: "Against my better judgement, my eyes linger on his full lower lip, his sparse upper one, before travelling to the slightly hooked nose, the chiseled cheekbones and then, as a sign of defeat, the deep,blue, hazy eyes that I find staring straight into mine." Tris runs a cake shop, Dauntless Cakes, in Chicago - but one night, it's robbed and Tris is put in danger.
1. Chapter 1

It's not perfect, but it's mine. Dauntless Cakes. We've only been here a year and three days but already my eyes are drawn to the slight peal of paint to the left of the sign, the smudged window glass that needs another clean. Business has been ok - that's all I can say. It's not great, but not awful: but I'm grateful because after the recession I was lucky to even get off the ground, let alone keep going for a substantial time. Sighing, I unlock the front door and step inside, my eyes drifting across the empty cabinet, the black counter and the mish-mash of a few chairs and tables. Not perfect, but mine.

Out back, I shove the lines of cupcake mixtures ready in their tins into the ovens, as well as the few larger ones I prepared last night. The macaroons and whoopee pies, cooked last night, are waiting, colour after colour after colour, to be filled and put together. Looking at my watch, I reckon on having an hour before opening. Shoving my bag and my coat onto the side table in the kitchen, I grab the black apron hanging from one of the pegs on the wall and wrap it round me, admiring the huge D embroidered across my chest: the red flames licking at it. Rolling up my sleeves, I get down to work.

Half an hour later, and half way through the whoopee pies, Christina charges into the kitchen, hair piled up high, eyes bright.

"Mooorning!" she sings, dispensing of her coat and grabbing the other black apron. 'Whatcha want to to do, Tris?"

"Hey Chris," I laugh, shoving two chocolate whoopee pie halves together, "Can you get all the cakes out the oven and ice them? The icings are over there." I point with the pallet knife to the large bowls at the other end of the counter. She gets to it.

Chris, or Christina, is my best friend. She's training to be a nurse, but to pay for her college education she works at my shop when she doesn't have lectures or seminars or activities. Without her, Dauntless wouldn't run and I fear the day she graduates and goes off to be a nurse forever at the city hospital. If I don't get some else in as good as her I'm basically finished. On the plus side, I know she'll always be my friend. When I first moved to Chicago, I had no one - no contacts, no friends. I'd organised to flat share through an estate company and, luckily for me, my roomie was Chris. It had been friendship at first sight.

* * *

Half an hour later, I'd finished with the macaroons and whoopee pies and Christina had iced like there was no tomorrow so that all the goods were ready. We heaved them through into the front room and placed them all in the counter, before shoving the piping kits into the sinks and turning the sign on the door to open. Already, a couple of people were milling about outside, mostly faces I recognised as dailies. As the door opened, I smiled from my place behind the counter.

"Morning Will!" I called as the tall man walked in, his deep green eyes crinkled.

"Hey Tris! he all but shouted, bounding across to the counter.

"What can I get for you?" He took his time, perusing the cakes before pointing his finger at Christina.

"That one please!" he said laughing. Let me explain, Will is Christina's boyfriend - he's always the first customer and he makes the same joke every morning.

"Yeah, I've heard that too many times. Come on, pick! I've got more valuable customers waiting." I say, impatiently. Laughing, he poitns instead at the Chocolate and Cream cheese cupcakes - our speciality, The Dauntless - and I scoop it up as Chris brings over his daily black americano. As he prances out the door (I'm not even joking, he does) we wave and then turn back to face the onslaught of customers.

* * *

By mid-morning, I already feel exhausted. It's always like this, the big rush, then a break, then another rush and then a slower I perk up when I see its nearing 11 - it means my favourite customer is about to pop in. Sure enough, as the minute hand reaches the top of the clock, the door opens on two Chicago cops, both dressed in their blue uniforms, laughing.

Smirking, Chris glares at me, wiggling her eyebrows. I frown, halfheartedly, unable to keep the grin from sliding onto my face.

"Morning, officers," I greet them, "What can I get you? The usual?"

As normal, Officer Pedrad is the first to speak. "Morning sexy ladies!" he says with a wink, leaning against the counter, "Yeah, the usual please Trissy."

I frown at him. "Don't call me that!" I say and he laughs. "Why not?" he grins, "I can call you what I want right? I'm the police! I can do what I like!" he says with another wink and an eyebrow raise.

"I guess so, Officer." I say, smiling as I reach for a red velvet cupcake for him, and a Dauntless cupcake for his partner - who I haven't yet looked at, knowing I'll loose my train of thought.

"So Chris, decided if you'll date me yet?" Officer Pedrad all but shouts across to Christina as she pulls at the levers of the coffee machine.

"Ha ha"comes the reply, "I say it again, as I've said it a hundred times, I've got a boyfriend Uriah!" Chris screams back. Uriah turns his eyes back to me.

"And you Trissy, thought about giving the Pedrad a go?" he questions.

"Dream on." I smile, passing the paper bad with the cupcakes in across to him.

Then he speaks. I've been waiting since they came in to look at him, but now I can't help it. My eyes are drawn to his voice.

"Uriah, when you going to learn that no ones wants to go out with an idiot?" He says, the the corners of his mouth twitching. Against my better judgement, my eyes linger on his full lower lip, his sparse upper one, before travelling to the slightly hooked nose, the chiseled cheekbones and then, as a sign of defeat, the deep,blue, hazy eyes that I find staring straight into mine.

Feeling a blush stride across my face at being caught staring, I quickly look down to the till and type in their purchases.

'Aw, shut up Four, just because you don't even have to say anything for girls to land at your feet. We don't all have that power, ya know." Uriah whines. Four chuckles. 'Hardly."

"That's $5 as normal please" I say still, glaring down at the till, as Christina walks over holding their coffees.

"Here" he says, his voice so soft and deep and urgh… Stop it Tris! I feel the note being placed in my hand. Hesitantly, I look up and find him looking down, slightly confused as always, at me. "You OK?".

"Yeah, fine, thanks. Um Yeah, thank you!" I say, glancing away and then back and then away again. "Have a good day! Catch lots of criminals!" I say, laughing awkwardly. They smile and turn to leave, Uriah blowing a kiss back at me and Chris as they go, climbing into their cruiser.

"Bloody hell, Beatrice Prior, could you BE any less awkward?" Chris groans once they're gone. "Seriously, it's almost too much even watching you when he's in here. This weird crush phase has been going on waaaay to long - I feel like I'm in high school again whenever they come in!"

"Shut up!" i say, trying not to grin, "I just forgot how to speak a bit when he's around." I say, feeling my cheeks burn again. "Go and make me some coffee woman!" I say, pushing her across to the machine.

Laughing, she turns away and starts messing with all the knobs. I turn back to the window and watch the cruiser pull away. As it does, he turns his head back to the shop - just long enough to see me staring at him, and a smile pulls at his lips before he's swallowed by the swarm of traffic on the road. Stupidly, I feel a grin hanging off my face as well. Stupid, stupid. Stupid.


	2. Chapter 2

I glance at the clock. It's late, I should be getting home. I have to walk to Chris and mine's flat at at this time, it's a risk walking in the streets alone, I'd admit. At least, I wouldn't advise it. I think about calling a cab, but that's just money I can't really afford to waste. The shop'd doing well but not that well. I'll have to risk it.

Sighing, I go into the kitchen and hang up my apron. As I reach for my coat, I hear the bell above the shop door tinkle.

'Sorry, we're closed!" I shout through the open kitchen door, pulling my coat on. No one replies.

"Hello?" I call, and I feel my heart rate accelerate just a little. _Don't be stupid_, I think, _it's fine_.

Slowly, I make my way to the door, peering out into the semi-gloom. My eyes latch on the glinting metallic glimmer by the door, as the voice cuts through the air.

"Don't shout. Don't make a noise. Just open the till. You got that?" His voice is calm, empty. I don't look at him. The gun fills my whole mind as I stare at it, it's coldness and cruelty radiating across the room.

"Go! Come one. I haven't got all night."

Slowly, I remind myself what he said and I walk towards the till, my eyes not leaving the gun. I punch something into the till and feel the draw ping open at my wrists. He begins to move towards me. I hold my breath, panicking, waiting. He shoves a bag onto the counter. He's less than a metre from me. I take a glimpse up at his face, for a second, less than that, but all I see are blank eyes behind a balaclava.

"Put it all in the bag" he commands, in that same empty, cold voice. Obediently, I start to shove todays profits into the bag, a small part of my mind crying silently over the lost money. Once I'm done, I shut the draw, hands shaking and put the bag on the counter. He doesn't take it. The gun is still raised at me and I'm still staring at it.

Suddenly, I feel a gloved finger sliding over my cheekbone.

"You're kinda pretty, huh?" He says. I cringe away from his hand, terror erupting inside. _Just take the money and go _ I beg in my head. _Just take the money and go_.

But his hand drifts downwards towards my chest and I feel him squeeze at me roughly. Without meaning to, I feel a whimper escape me. I lock my lips, trying to control myself.

"Hey, don't be like that." He says, and the lips protruding from the balaclava, rubbery and thick, smile.

"Just go." I say quickly, quietly. "Please just go."

His hand, still against my chest, withdraws and I sigh but then, without warning, its back, smashing into my jaw. Lights flicker in my eyes and then blackness explodes.

* * *

Tobias POV

We've only got an hour left of our shift. Thank god. I love Uriah, but after a couple of hours alone with him, the incessant chatter and banter can be tiring. Especially now, when he's on his favourite subject: the cake girl. "They way you to act - it's like you're in high school!" he all but shouts, "I mean just shag her or something Four! She's begging for you to even kiss her!" Tightening my jaw, and staring out the window into the black Chicago streets, I ignore him."Don't tell you you aren't interested - she's the only girl you talk to out of work. And you haven't been rude to her once, which by your standards is a record."

"Shut Up Uri." I say. I've had enough of his advice. I've been hearing it for 3 hours already today. A voice crackles on the radio and I grab it, eager for a distraction.

"Break in reported at …" the zip code is somewhere near Logan Square. "Resident of flat above heard a shout and gun shots, as well as glass being broken. He hasn't been down. We've advised against it. Anyone in the area." The address rings in my mind, familiar, too familiar. Where is it? Why is it familiar? Shit.

"Hey, Tori, Uri and I have got it." I say quickly. She confirms and Uri looks at me.

"Mate, that's miles out." he grumbles, "Why'd you say we'd go? We've only got an hour left."

"It's the shop, Uri, it's her shop." I say quietly and his face pales.

"Shit" he says and he flicks the sirens on, the blue lights filling the street in front of the cruiser. The car in front of us pulls to the side to let us pass. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry guys, don't know what happened with all the html code back then - hopefully this will be ok and you can read it easily! As before - Just to let you know, this chapter has a description of the aftermath of a rape so I'd probably rate it T/M - there's no physical violence, but just a description of the victim. If you don't want to read it, stop after Tobias POV ends and skip to the next chapter! It's not particularly descriptive but away it's not that nice. Thanks for the reviews! x

* * *

The quietness of the street was eerie as we drove down the all too familiar block. The orange glow of the street lamps mixed with the blue flashes from our cruiser to create odd shadows and flickers across the buildings. Nearer we drove. My heart was pounding and my breath was coming out oddly in strange pants. Uriah shot me a look. "Hey, Four comm'on, keep it together mate."

There. There it was. At first, nothing seemed amiss. But then my eyes fell on the shattered window to the right of the door. Shit.

I jumped out the car as Uriah pulled up. Sprinting, the door open, I stopped in the centre of the shop. Everything was silent, the darkness pressing on my eyeballs, constricting everything. Panic rose. _Stop it._ I said to myself. _Don't let it get the better of you. You need to check she's not here. Ignore it. It's just darkness. It's an illusion_. But even so, the feeling of claustrophobia hung onto some part of me as I strained to hear something, anything.

I felt Uriah come up beside me. "What, you you see int he dark now of something?" he siad, slightly out of breath as he pulled his flashlight out. No, I'd just not thought about it. I couldn't get past the one huge, all encompassing question that was fogging my whole mind. _Is she alright?_

Uriah's beam of light waltzed along the tables and chairs. They stood perfectly, too perfectly, glimmering where the broken glass coated them with a fine, deadly dust. The beam bobbed across to the counter, the till, the coffee machine. Nothing was out of place, nothing seemed damaged. Th panic began to subside within me. Maybe it was just vandalism. Just some stupid kid who thought it was funny to throw a brick at the window. Except there was no brick. And the window was obviously broken from the inside out.

Uriah's beam of light bobbed across the closed door to the kitchen and then down across the glass cabinet to the counter, next to the till, to the hand print stamped across it in a dark, sticky, red substance, smudged slightly. A large hand print. A hand print of something that looked like blood.

From the depths of the darkness behind the counter came a quiet, chilling sound. A moan, no a whimper - it was breathless, barely audible. Without seeing, I knew who it had come from. i could picture the soft, full lips it had slipped from.

Panic almost overwhelmed me and I felt goosebumps crawling up my skin.

"Tris?" I called softly.

* * *

Uriahs POV

I'd never heard anything so tender come from Four before. I glanced over - his whole body was rigid, his eyes seeking to find the source of that horrible whimper. Slowly, I backed up back to the shop door and flicked the light switch I'd just seen, filling the room with scalding, artificial light. Four had already moved to behind the counter. Once I turned the light on, his face blanched. his left hand gripped the side of the counter as his eyes took in whatever it was I couldn't see. Slowly, and I'd admit, unwillingly, I approached the edge of the counter and looked down to whatever he was seeing. Bile rose in my throat.

Tris. It was her. Her beautiful face was pale, her eyes closed and a huge black bruise was swelling on her jawline. She wasn't moving. But that wasn't what made me sick. The worst part was the ripped grey dress. Earlier today, I'd complimented her on it. Told her she looked extra pretty. She'd smacked me gently with the rolling pin she'd been holding. The dress was stained now, with the same sticky substance on the hand print, the bodice ripped, buttons pulled off. And it was pushed up round her waist. More of the substance lay in a thick pool around her.

She looked so small, so tiny.

Immediately, I grabbed my radio and called fof an ambulance. Before I turned again, wrenching my eyes away, to look for Four. He was in the same position, shaking slightly. But, strangest of all, a single tear was rolling down his cheek, illuminated by the weird artificial light. Quite suddenly, he collapsed, falling down onto the floor of the shop and crawling towards Tris. His hand moved out and gently stroked her cheek, before he gingerly and carefully pulled her into his arms, cradling her limp body. The red substance began to crawl onto his blue shirt, the stain swelling slightly across his chest. I didn't have the heart to tell him to stop breaking protocol. To put her down and wait for the ambulance. I'd never seen him break down like these. Never seen him show more emotion than the occasional laugh that was quickly silenced. But here, for the first time in the 6 years we'd been partners, I was seeing his walls crumble for a girl he could barely speak to and who could barely look at him. Silently, I watched him and waited for the ambulance to show.


	4. Chapter 4

**Another update! Loving writing this tonight. Having so much fun!**

* * *

Tobias POV

I won't lie. I was tired. So so tired. But I couldn't sleep. It wasn't the incessant beeping of the machines - if anything they were a comfort: they proved that life existed, that her heart was beating - no, i couldn't sleep because I couldn't risk leaving her, even for a 10 minute nap. She looked so small in the hospital bed, so vulnerable. An oxygen mask swamped her face, swallowing up her features. The blankets were tucked up around her, hiding the hideous hospital gown they'd put her in. The dark shadow across her jaw was just visible, against her pale skin and the white quilt. Her hair, shining eerily in the dim lighting, formed a halo round her head. One tiny fist was clamped tightly be her side.

I couldn't sleep. I couldn't leave her alone. Even if it was just for a quick nap.

Uriah had stayed at the shop. At the crime scene. I needed to keep that clear. I'd already broken protocol by cradling her back there. Uriah had gently pulled me away once he heard the ambulance coming. I shouldn't have moved her: I could have hurt her. But again, she was so small lying there on the floor and all that blood and… and her dress. Anger rippled through me. The bastard who could do that.. Who the fuck? I felt my fists tighten.

_Get a grip._

What the hell was wrong with me? I'm a cop, for gods sake, I see this all the time. _But not her_.

No, that's why I'd broken protocol. I wanted, no needed, to help her back there. Needed to hold her and comfort her, because she had just looked so small, so broken. I don't know what I was thinking but somehow all I'd been trained to do had broken down at the sight of her lying crumpled in her own blood.

A conflict had been raging in my head since I got in the ambulance with her. Part of me, the furious part, the part from the past who I tried to oppress at all times, was roaring to be let loose. That part was ready to chase round Chicago and find the bastard who had done this and rip his head off for it. That part of me wanted to track him down and punish whoever did this.

The other part, the part I'd nurtured and promoted for the rest of my life, was telling the monster to calm down, to be sensible, grappling to put the monster back in its mental cage. It told me Uriah would be dealing with it, that he had probably already caught the guy. That everything was fine, as long as I calmed down.

And then there was a third part. A new part. A part I had rarely felt. The part that refused to leave the bedside of this girl for no obvious reason other than assuming she needed my protection. This part, this new creature within me, I'd rarely felt. They only other times were just a few hours ago, when I'd seen her on the floor and it had entirely taken over and then once, just once before that. Back when I was 15, maybe? And he'd hit her and she'd fallen and suddenly the beast and this strange rare creature had come head to head and I'd had two options: hit him or help her. And the beast had won then. I'd hit him, like he always hit me and Mum and I'd realised I was no better than him. Now, I have the monster more under control. I'd showed that back at the shop. The other creature had won today.

I was brought out of my thoughts by a whimper.

She was still sleeping but I could see her eyes moving under her lids franticly. A second whimper escaped her lips.

"Hey" I said softly kneeling beside the bed, face to face with her. Gently, I took her hand in mine and rubbed it's back with my thumb, hoping to sooth, to comfort her. "Hey, Tris it's ok, it's all ok. You're safe." I whispered, "It's ok, I'm here, you're safe, I'm here, Your safe." It became a sort of mantra, repeated again and again as my thumb rubbed the soft skin on the back of her hand. "It's ok, I'm here, you're safe."

A few minutes passed and the movement under her lids ceased. Then, her eyelids flicked and I was 20 cm from those clear, grey eyes.

"Hi." I offered shyly, suddenly self-conscious of being so close, of holding her hand, of being here at all. I dropped her hand. She didn't say anything but her eyes drank me in, perusing me as a whole. Slowly, at first confused by the tugging of the IV tube in one of her hands, she pushed the oxygen mask on her face down.

Then, so quietly, like a feather hitting the floor, she whispered "Hello officer." I chuckled, I couldn't help it. A slight frown creased her forehead.

"I'm sorry" I whispered back, still chuckling, no doubt somewhat delirious, "It's Four. That's my name. Four."

"Four," she whispered. "Like the number."

"Yeah, I guess." I replied. _You guess, Tobias? _said a voice in my head.

She sighed slightly and attempted to reposition herself on the bed, immediately wincing.

"You ok?" I said, panicked, imagining the red blood pouring through the white blankets again, like in the shop. _The crime scene _said the voice. Like the crime scene.

"Yeah" she barely gasped, "Just a little… uncomfortable." Her eyes unfocused slightly as she moved again, her teeth gritting.

"Do you want some more morphine?" I asked, aware of my hands uselessly fluttering over the sheets, trying to find some way to help, to ease her suffering.

"No, no…It's fine…I'm fine" she said weakly. I smiled slightly at her attempted bravery. She stopped moving once she'd got herself comfortable, and briefly shut her eyes, as if to ease the pain this way. Smugly I pressed the button next to me, knowing that a shot of morphine was entering her bloodstream right now.

Her eyes flicked open for a second and then immediately began to drop. I gently took her hand again and began rubbing the circles on it, "it's ok." i whispered again, "It's ok. I'm here. You're safe. It's ok." Slowly her eyelids fully closed again and her breathing normalised, the beeping of the machine measuring her heart slowed as well as she drifted back into a painless world. Carefully, hesitantly and against every part of me that commanded me to act like a responsible police officer, I tucked a wild lock of blonde hair that had escaped back behind her ear, allowing my fingers to hover just too long on her cheekbone, just too long at her jaw line. Carefully, I bent down, about to place the mask back on her mouth, when her eyes flicked half open again, struggling to focus on me.

"Four," she said sleepily, "like the number."

"Yeah." I said, smiling again, "Just like the number."

Her eyes closed once more and after a few seconds just watching her relax into sleep, I fixed the mask on her face and sat back in the visiting chair, still holding her small hand and rubbing the invisible circles on its back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Tris' POV**

Fog clouds everything. I feel like I have the worst hangover in the world. I can't think right, can't think full stop. Every time I do, the thought drifts off somewhere into oblivion before I've got a handle on it. Added to that, I can feel a strange isolated point on my jaw. It doesn't hurt - there isn't pain - it just sort of throbs weirdly. They same things happening in my stomach. Pain but not pain.

Time passes. Minutes? Hours? I don't know. The fog doesn't lift. I think I drift in and out of sleep. I can't be sure.

Moments become clearer. Then I sink back into the fog.

I remember the eyes. The blues ones. Hazy. Officer. He was speaking. I could see his mouth but everything was dull, everything was foggy.

"…Four…"

Four. Four. Four. Four tyres on a car. Four legs on a cat. Four bases in baseball. Four walls in a room. Four shelves in my fridge at home. Four.

"Four," I whisper, trying to hold onto those blue eyes in front of me, but they're slipping away, "like the number."

Someone laughed. It hurt. It was too loud. I shift, uncomfortable and suddenly pain shots into the fog lifting it only to replace it with agony. I stop moving. The fog comes back.

I move again and the pain explodes. The voice breaks through, soft, gentle.

"You OK?"

"Yeah…" I whisper. "Just a little…uncomfortable." _More than that_. It's agony. The voice says something about Mordor. What? Where was I? Why is he talking about Mordor? The thought drifts through my head and into the fog.

"No..No… It's fine" I say. The fog flings my thoughts everywhere. Mordor. No, not there. The fog thickens suddenly.

No. I don't want this. The fog's too thick, it's pulling me to darkness. I try to stop it to move it away. The voice begins to chant. It's soothing.

Four. Four legs on a table. Four. Four. Four. One, two three, four.

"Four," I say again to reassure myself, to stop the fog coming, "like the number."

The voice replies but I can't hear. The fog wins.

The fog's lifting again. How much time? Minutes? Hours? I can hear louder voices. They began to cut into the fog.

The voice. I recognise the voice. Soft, but now demanding. "Anything?" Almost pleading.

The other one replies, deep and vaguely familiar. "No. We look at all the neighbouring blocks. No ones seen or heard anything. The CSI are analysing the scene now and the DNA swaps they took from the kit they ran when she got here had just arrived at the station while I was leaving. Hopefully, that'll help. If not, we just gotta hope she saw something and tells us when she wakes up."

"She needs rest."

"Of course. But she'll probably want to help."

A pause. The fog begins to swallow what I've heard. I struggle to keep conscious again.

Then the deep voice speaks again. "have you slept, mate?"

"Not yet."

"Four, go home and sleep. I'll stay with her. She'll be fine. I've cancelled our shift tomorrow so we won't be on the beat. We can focus on this case."

"No, it's fine I'll stay."

"Four come on. You look shattered. I'll stay for a few hours and then get another officer up to guard while the maniac is still on the loose."

"No Uriah, I'm staying. I can't leave her."

"Four, you don't know her."

"Just piss off, OK?"

Another pause. Then the deep voice replies.

"Fine. I'll be back tomorrow."

I hear the door click shut. I hear another click, closer to me. I feel the soft, warm touch on my face again. The fog begins to descend, numbing the dull ache in my jaw and my stomach.

"I'll stay Tris, I promise."

The fog wins.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for all the reviews!**

* * *

Tobias POV

When I wake up, the nurse is in with a tray of food. Embarrassingly, I've fallen asleep with my head resting against the side of Tris' bed, my hand still weaved into hers. My first thought is guilt: I left her on her own. Stretching, I glance at the nurse as she busies herself trying to wake Tris.

"Give me a hand, boyfriend?" she says, cheerfully. A weird swooping sensation grips my stomach.

"I'm not… I'm not her boyfriend." I say quietly, "Just…a friend." The nurse winks and turns back to Tris, who stirs sleepily. I feel my phone buzzing against my leg: taking it out I see Uriah's name.

"Be right back." I say, walking out into the corridor.

It's white, plain, dull - just like all hospital corridors. Leaning next to the door, I answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi Four, it's me. Listen, mate, we've got a problem. We went to Tris' flat this morning because she shares it with Christina, you know the other girl in the shop."

"Yeah, yeah I know." _Come on Uriah_ says the voice in my head _Spit it out. I want to go back to her._

"Well, she wasn't there. The flat was empty. So, we need you to check with Tris if she was in the shop that night, otherwise we've got another problem."

"Tris won't want to speak about it."

"Mate, it's her friend, not her who could be in danger now. Just ask. Don't be an idiot. You don't even know her."

"Fine." Angrily, I end the call, shoving my phone back into my pocket and striding back into the room. I pause, hesitant. She's up, sitting straight in bed, her breakfast tray on her lap, her hair a mess around her shoulders. I panic - what if she doesn't want me here?

"Morning." she says, a slightly confused expression crossing her face at my entrance.

The nurse chuckles: "Hey, sunshine, don't be shy, he's been watching you all night! Some friend you got there." Bustling out, she winks at me again. Panic rises in me as I force myself to look at Tris. The confused expression remains.

"You…really did that? Stayed all night?" she questioned, squinting at me.

"I guess so." I replied, sounding so ridiculously weird.

"Well… thanks." she breathes, still staring at me with that confused expression, "That's nice of you. You didn't need to unless…unless… you haven't caught him?" Her voice falls to bare a whisper. I cross to her bedside and sit down, stopping myself from retaking her hand and leaning in - she might not be so willing now she's conscious to hold my hand.

"We haven't caught him yet." I say, staring at the ground and I hear her breath catch in her throat. The machine measuring her heart beeps more rapidly. "But it's fine," I quickly backtrack, "You don't need to worry. We will soon. And until then I'll be in this room." At that I glance up to find two grey eyes staring intently at me.

"Thanks." she breathes, biting her lower lip a little looking so vulnerable, so small, "but don't you need to go and be a cop or something?" I laugh and she cringes slightly, the frown between her eyebrows reappearing.

"Sorry," I chuckle, "Just..well I _am_ being a cop now, right?" _Yeah, sure you are Tobias_, the voice mutters _staying all night in the hospital room of a crime victim is purely a professional duty of care._

Tris blushes profusely."Oh, yeah, well, I guess you are." she mutters picking up the spoon on her tray and flinging some of the fruit salad's contents around the blue plastic bowl. A few minutes pass as she plays with her food and I try to find a way to open up the can of worms in front of us.

"Uh, Tris. I need to ask you something about….about that night." Her eyes shoot up towards me and she cringes away as though I reprimand her or something. "You don't have to go through it!" I reassure her, "It's just one thing I need to ask you. It's serious."

Eventually, she nods hesitantly. A silent OK.

"That night," I start, trying to be as gentle and slow as possible, but already her eyes fill with tears. Without thinking I grab her free hand and start to rub the circles onto it. She doesn't react at first, her wet eyes still focused on the fruit salad, but then again, she nods.

"That night, Tris, was Christina with you?" Her eyes shoot up to mine.

"What? No," she breathes, her voice cracking, "No it was just…just me." I can see her mind whirring. Trying to work out the meaning of my question? Or thinking about how it could have been different if Christina had been there? Either way, I feel relief flood my body. "No, Christina is in Miami visiting her parents for a few days." More relief - one less problem. I pull my phone out and quickly text Uriah one handed.

"ALL OK. C is in Miami visiting rents." After only a few seconds, I get one back. "GD. Thank God."

Once I'm done reading, I feel her gaze on me and I look up. "Who're you texting?"

"Just Uriah," I say and, at her look of confusion, "Officer Pedrad".

"Oh." A silence falls again, a little awkward and suddenly I'm aware I'm still holding her hand, still rubbing invisible circles across it.

"The nurse said you should be good to go this afternoon." I tell her, wanting to break the silence, "It's just bruising and obviously minor damage else where…" I pause awkwardly again. At least there weren't any bullet wounds. They'd found the bullet the neighbour must have heard lodged into a wall behind the counter - warning shots?

"Four," came the voice, cutting through my wandering thoughts, and I looked back it her. Her face was white and slightly ill looking but her voice had come out strong, almost defiant, "Your name is Four?"

I broke into a smile. "Yeah," I said, "Like the number." her cheeks blushed a little. Before she could reply the nurse came in. I dropped Tris' hand straight away.

"Right, Miss Prior," the nurse almost sang, "Let's get you up, up, up and away, hey?" She pulled the tray from Tris' hands and placed it on the side table. "You." she gestured towards me, "Out. Wait out there. I'll call you when she's ready to go home."

"Go home?" said Tris half fearful, half relieved."

"Yes, home, young lady. This officer," she turned and winked at me again, "Is in charge of taking you to your place of residence. But first he needs to get out!" She shoved me, as I laughed out into the corridor. Before I could even turn, she'd slammed the door leaving me waiting outside in the corridor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Tris POV**

The ride home was odd. Part of me was terrified. I still felt ill, dirty, when I thought of what had happened only two days ago. The councillor had stressed and stressed that it wasn't me, that there was nothing wrong with me, but still: Let's just say I couldn't wait to get home and have a long power shower to try and rid his 'scent' off me. I shivered slightly in the seat of the cruiser.

Four hadn't spoken since we'd got into the car, but from my peripheral vision I could see him shoot glances across every few seconds. I wanted to ask him why he'd stayed, why he was taking me back. Was the Chicago PD short on Officers or something?

The ride was a good 20 minutes on a good day and the traffic was heavy. Around half way, he turned the radio on, filling the tension with some cheesy pop song, his long fingers gently tapping out the beat on the steering wheel. Still, neither of us spoke.

We'd been fine walking down the hospital corridors. He'd made jokes about the patients as they walked passed, whispering what ailments he thought they had in my ear: they ranged from the hilarious to the mildly horrific. Even in the car park, we'd chatted about Chicago, how long we'd lived here.

But then, once we were in the car, in a restrained atmosphere neither of us could find anything to say. Tension filled the car. Everything I thought of sounded stupid, idiotic in my head.

"So, when did you set up the shop?" he asked suddenly, breaking through the hazy pop song that filtered the tension only marginally.

"Urgh, about a year ago" I replied. Images of the shop flashed through my mind, images of darkness, or a tinkling bell, of the flash of metal and the cold empty voice, of pain in my jaw and temporary blackness only then to feel cold hands everywhere. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it all out, tensing my muscles, physically pushing it away.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry" I heard a soft voice whisper and something warm gripped my knee. I opened my eyes to find two deep blue opens staring, concerned, into mine, his hand resting lightly on my leg. I didn't move, I just kept staring back, entranced by the different layers of blue in his eyes, in their depth and conscious of the tingling spreading through me originating from the hand on my leg.

"Um," I said eventually, "the lights have turned." He looked away and exhaled, removing his hand and replacing it on the steering wheel, as the cruiser moved forward. Another awkward pause broke out.

Finally, as we were turning into my block, he said "I'm sorry Tris… Miss Prior… I shouldn't have done that. It was unprofessional. I apologise."

I almost laughed. "It's fine, don't worry." I said a little too quickly, "No Problem."

He pulled in in front of my apartment block. "Thanks for taking me…" I began but he was already getting out the car and walking round to my side, opening my door for me. I muttered another thanks. We walked, in silence again, to the lift in my building. I kept expecting him to stop, to say goodbye and turn but he got in the lift and asked me what floor. "3rd". He pressed the button.

Even when we got to my door, he didn't leave. "Do you want to come in?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yeah,sorry, I need to talk to you." Obediently, I open the door of the apartment. It smelt slightly stale after two days of being shut up. I walked to the kitchen, "Coffee?", he nodded and followed me. "So, what did you want to talk about." The idiot I was, my heart was pounding.

"Firstly," he started, leaning against the counter as I put the kettle on, "Here's mine and Uriah's card. We'll be in contact soon - we need a statement from you - but if there's anything you need, anything at all, whether that's an armed battalion or just someone to talk to or if you're feeling scared or whatever, just call my number, ok? Even if it's midnight. It's fine. Call me."

I nod, embarrassed, part of me laughing that this _this_ was how I'd finally got the Officer who always has dauntless cake's number. Well, it was black, twisted kind of humour I suppose.

"Secondly," he went on, oblivious to my mind wanderings, "When is Christina coming back?"

"Um, next wednesday" I replied, "two days from now."

"Do you want us to station an officer outside for you? While you're alone here?"

"No, no, don't worry, I'll be fine. I don't want to make a fuss." I said, more embarrassed, turning away to grab some mugs as my face heated up. I felt a warm hand at my waist and twisted back, surprised.

He'd moved closer, his eyes boring into mine and his warm breath fanned gently across my face. He didn't drop his hand.

"Tris, that's what the police force is for, keeping you safe. It wouldn't be a hassle, it would be someones job. My number one priority is to keep you safe, ok?" It didn't escape my notice that he switched to 'me' from 'we'. Maybe he realised as well, because he dropped his hand and stepped back. "That's all I needed to chat about, so I'll go now but remember, If you need anything, anything Tris, even if that's someone to do the grocery shopping with or to take you to the hospital, just call, yeah? We'll help you in any way we can. I'll be in contact about that statement soon. Text me later so I have your number, yeah?" And with that, he walked out. It was only once I heard the door bang that I realised the two coffees standing un-drunk in front of me. My heart sunk a little. _Stop it. _ I said to myself _He's just doing his job_.

I walked to the door and snapped the dead bolts in place. The room was stuffy, but I didn't open a window. Instead, I took my coffee and sat at the dinner table, realising that the rest of the evening was going to be a long one, and sleep was unlikely to come. At that, I rose and pulled the blinds down, before curling up on the sofa and flicking through the channels, trying to find one that I could use to numb my mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Tris' POV**

I'd been at home 3 days. Survived 3 days. True, I hadn't left the apartment , but I'd managed on my own that long.

Christina had called a few hours ago. There was some minor hurricane in Miami so she wasn't going to be back today or tomorrow. I'd pretended it was alright, but secretly panic swamped my body. I'd been relying on her return to get through the passed few days.

_Pull yourself together Tris. It's been OK so far._

They still hadn't caught him, whoever it was. The DNA results had come back as an unknown: not on the system. Four had called me two days ago to say. He hadn't called since.

Or rather, I hadn't asked anything of him since. Regardless of all his 'We will do anything' talk, "I'd felt like an idiot every time I considered calling. Hence, instead of going out for groceries, I'd had them delivered. Part of me was embarrassed to ask for help in something so easy to do.

I spent the rest of the afternoon watching some ridiculous TV program on weddings, tucked up on the sofa. By the time the run of old episodes was over, it was dark outside. Immediately, I went on my ritual of pulling all the curtains shut. As I reached the kitchen window, I peeked out into the semi-darkness, looking across the street. A singular figure was standing under one of the streetlamps, a silhouette in the circle of light.

Panic rippled through me. _Stop it._ I told myself, _stop it. Don't be an idiot. It's just someone checking their watch or waiting for someone_._ Stop it_. I forced myself to close the last set of curtains and turned away, trying to control my breathing, my thumping heart. Changing into my pajamas, I focused on the programme I'd been watching, laughing at the tacky weddings the couples had had, at the foul dresses. Lying in bed, I continued to method, pushing out any thoughts of that night, that other faceless figure. But each time I thought I'd succeeded, it would rush back in and my heart would begin pounding.

Time crept forward, and sleep evaded me. 11 o'clock, 12 o'clock, 1o'clock. Each time I found myself swimming on the borders of unconscious, flashes would come back. The glint of the gun, the rubbery, thick lips, the cold hands prising my thighs apart. The heavy weight on top of me.

At around 3o'clock, I was once more swimming down into one form of unconscious sleep when I heard the bang of the buildings door some 3 floors down. I sat bolt upright, my heart thumping audible. Who the hell would be coming home at this time? Panic began to fog my thoughts, my motions. I couldn't move, could barely breath, as I heard footsteps banging up the stairs outside. No voices, no laughter, no rowdy drunken night banter, just singular footsteps climbing up the concrete stairs of the building.

The flashbacks came back. The glint, the thick lips, the empty voice, the hands. The blood rushed in my body, dizzying me. _He's back he's back he's back_ echoed round and round, pushing sense and reason out.

My hand grabbed along my side table until I found my phone, the footsteps still pounding upwards. Dazed, panicked, I searched for Four and found the number and called it Bang, bang, bang. He must be at the first floor now. My mouth was dry from panting.

The phone rang. And rand. And rang. Tears started to swell in my eyes - _please, please, please._

Finally, "Hello?" he sounded groggy, sleepy."

"Four, it's me." I whispered, my breathing heavy.

"Urgh, what… wait…. Tris? Are you ok?" He said, his voice gaining consciousness as he spoke.

Bang. Bang. Bang. They must be at the second floor now. "There's someone here. Someone coming up the stairs. I think it's him, Four." I breathed, fear starting to cripple my speech.

"Shit." said Four and I heard scuffling, "Is your door locked Tris? Go into your bathroom, lock that door as well and wait there. I'm coming OK? I'll be there in ten." He cut the line.

Panic drenched me. Bang, Bang, Bang. That meant he was on his way to the 3rd floor. Almost paralysed, I began dragging myself to the bathroom, locking the door behind me and sitting against it, listening. Bang, Bang, Bang. He must be on my floor. Bang, Bang, Bang.

The footsteps stopped. I crawled over to the bath mat and curled myself into a ball, dizzy with fear and adrenaline, shaking. He was outside my apartment. Outside. Doing…what? I clasped my eyes shut, reaching my ears out, trying to hear something, anything.

I don't know how long I stayed there but after what seemed hours I heard a second slam downstairs and footsteps running up the stairs. _Four_. The footsteps halted outside my door - wait wasn't the man there? Wasn't Four going to see him? I heard a knock at the door.

"Tris? Tris, it's me? Four? Are you ok? I'm going to come in ok?" I'd given the police force a key when I'd moved back in. Confusion swept my head as I heard him unlocking the door. Where had the man gone? Was he in my apartment? Was he hiding outside?

Footsteps echoed across my kitchen towards the bathroom. Sure, calm, heavy footsteps. _Four._

"Tris?" He said softly knocking lightly on the bathroom door, "Tris? It's ok, I'm here, It's safe, you can come out."

Standing shakily, I unlocked the door, opening it to reveal him standing there in jogging bottoms and a grey t-shirt. His hair was ruffled, his face still sleepy but his eyes were awake, concerned. He was here.

Relief flooded my system and I felt the tears that had been welling in my eyes explode down my face. I crumpled. But I didn't hit the floor. Strong, warm arms caught my body and lifted me gently, pulling me to a warm, solid surface. I could hear his heart beating constantly next to my ear.

"Shh, It's ok, I'm here, you're safe, it's ok." he chanted into my ear. Suddenly he picked me up, bridal style and carried me to the sofa, sitting down with me still cradled in his arms, still repeating the mantra in my ear, his hands rubbing circles on my lower back. I felt something soft brush the top of my head. His lips.

"It's ok, I'm here, you're safe, it's ok."

* * *

**Tobias POV**

When I woke, my first thought in the nether land of waking was that my back was killing me. I'd slept sitting up.

My second thought was of the small, warm mass that was curled up against my chest.

_Tris_.

My arms were encircling her, one hand cupping her head to my chest, supporting it. She was still asleep, breathing gently, looking peaceful. The moments of the night before flashed through my mind.

I'd been asleep when the shrill ringing of my phone had burst out in my room, it's blue light dazzling me. Confused I'd answered, only to hear that beautiful voice gripped in terror. I'd worked out what she was saying. Someone was there, someone was threatening her. She needed me.

I barely registered the next 10 minutes. Somehow, I pulled on some clothes and got in the car, my mind on Tris and Tris only. Somehow, I'd driven to hers, thinking of what could be happening to her, what I was going to find. When I got there, the building was silent. Silent like the night at the shop, silent like it was holding horrific secrets. I'd ran up the stairs, not bothering with the lift to the 3rd floor. Nothing seemed odd, everything was silent. I'd knocked on her door and called to her. No answer. A bit of dread, diminished by the normalcy of the situation, returned. I'd unlocked her door with the key she'd given me and walked straight to the bathroom where I'd told her to go. Inside, I could here snuffling. I'd spoken to her again and after a short pause I heard movement behind the door. It opened.

And there she was. Small and shaking. Her face had been deathly pale, her eyes huge and fearful and brimming with tears. She'd seen me and then…. collapsed. I'd caught her, brought her to the sofa, and fallen asleep comforting her.

I was brought from my thoughts by her moving in my arms, stirring. Gently, I pushed the hair that covered her face away, tucking it behind her ear.

"Morning," I whispered gently, as her eyes fluttered open, "How are you this morning?"

After a few seconds when she as obviously attempting to get her barrings, her face flushed.

"I'm… I'm so so sorry." she said, embarrassment flooding her face and she sat up, "I was such an idiot. I thought… I thought it was him."

"Hey," I said refusing, against my better judgement, to relax my hold on her, keeping her encircled, "It's fine, it's normal to be panicky. It was probably someone going home late or something. You did the right thing, calling me. It could have been anyone."

"You didn't have to stay," she said looking down at her hands, "I mean… thanks for staying but, you didn't need to."

"Last night, I needed to." I replied. Still she wouldn't look at me, "What's up?" I said gently tugging at her chin to make her look at me.

Still averting her eyes, she breathed out gingerly. "I'm not normally this weak." she said, "I was just… tired."

I chuckled slightly and her eyes finally flashed up to meet mine, but anger laced them.

"Tris," is started, cutting my chuckle off, "this was brave. You called me. You did the right thing. You've been to hell and back this past week - you're allowed to be scared ok? Nobody is fearless. You wouldn't be brave if you were. My trainer, in the academy, Amar, he used to tell me that fear doesn't shut us down, it wakes us up. You're an idiot of you're not scared of anything. You're brave if you recognise your fear and do something about it. And that's what you did - you called me and you protected yourself. That was brave, Tris."

Again she blushed and looked down, mumbling something. "What?"

"I wouldn't call last night brave." she said slightly louder. I couldn't think of anything to say. She was so stubborn. Staring at her, her bed hair, her flushed face, her lumpy grey t-shirt and pyjamas shorts, I felt the third creature in my pounce and take over. I pulled her into a hug, feeling her small frame pressed against my chest. I wrapped my arms fully round her and tucked her head under my chin. Sparks seemed to fly wherever our skiing touched - my hand on her lower back where her t-shirt had ridden up, my forearm against her leg, her forehead against my neck. I didn't want to let go. _So against protocol, Tobias _said the voice of reason in my heart _this is _**_not_**_ the role of a police officer_. Another part of me, probably the voice of the 3rd creature replied crudely: _Oh fuck off._

I wanted to hold this moment for ever, her body pressed against mine, her warmth mingling into me. It was perfect. It was elysium.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for taking so long to update! I've had exams, but I promise I'll be more regularly.**

**Tris' POV**

After waking up cradled in his arms on the sofa, the rest of the morning have progressed awkwardly. As the clock reached 7:30 he'd grudgingly commented that he needed to get to the station because his shift started at 8. He'd left ten minutes later, with promises of being available at all hours and mentioning that he and Uriah would be round that afternoon to get my statement.

Embarrassment slowly grew within me as he rushed out the door and reached peak as I sat back down on the sofa. In the all seeing light of morning my panic seemed trivial and ridiculous. Of course it was just someone coming home. That I'd not only called Four out but made him stay here was bordering on humiliating. The prospect of him coming later made me half shudder and half pine for the afternoon. The idea of recounting the night though - I tried to block the images that poured straight in when I thought of it.

Once I'd washed, dressed and eaten breakfast, I sat down to email my brother Caleb. He lived in New York and I hadn't told him anything. I knew if I did, he'd come straight here and make me leave with him. He was so proper and uptight. I could see in my head the look of pity he would hold for me: he'd treat me odd and awkward and act to a point the role of the concerned sibling without holding a shred of sincerity. No, Caleb wasn't going to find out.

By lunch time, panic about my statement began to set in. The idea of going over it again turned my stomach and instigated a dizziness in me that forced me to sit down. In some attempt to forgot I decided to bake a cake for the Officers. A Dauntless cake.

It started OK. I mixed the dry ingredients and then started adding the eggs. That's what did it the eggs. One cracked open and the white glanced across my fingers. Wet, thick, like blood. The glimmer of the gun flickered across my mind. I shut my eyes. _Block it out. Block it out_. I carried on, my left hand shaking slightly. It was fine, it was fine, it was fine. Once finished, I poured the cake mixture into the tin. I picked it up. The tin was cool, metallic. More flashes rang through my head. The hands, the cold hands. The voice. Panic swept through me. The cake tin fell from my hands.

It crashed to the floor with a bang.

The gun going off. Tears on my face. The voice. _"Shut up or I'll shot again. And not the wall."_

I was on the floor. Sitting in the remains of the cake mixture, the cake tin a foot from me, un-sprung. The ceramic mixing bowl behind me had smashed onto the floor, in shards. Something in my hand hurt. Tears were pouring down my face.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't even bake. Everything was ruined. Everything was ruined.

* * *

**Tobias' POV**

_Professional. Professional. Professional._ I was here to get the statement. _Professional_.

That crumpled when the door opened.

"Hi Miss Prior, I'm here to get your statement. I'm afraid my partner was called out so it's just…"

The rehearsed apology that sounded so stale, so idiotic after what had happened this morning cooled in my mouth. Tears streaked her face. Something was splattered across her clothes. Her eyes were vaguely unfocused.

"Tris?"

A weak smile crossed her face. "Hi" she whispered. Gently, I pushed her aside so I could get into the apartment. As I brushed past her, the faint smell of alcohol reached my nose. Some mixture, the same that flecked her clothes, was splattered across the kitchen floor. Shards of white ceramic mixed with it. Sitting on the dining table was a quarter full bottle of Jack Daniels, it's lid next to it.

A pulse of anger rippled through me. "What the HELL are you doing?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice under control as I span on my heel back to face her. She was leaning against the wall, trying to focus on me.

"I was…I was baking a cake…for you." She replied, slightly slurred. Something clicked in my head. The broken bowl, the cake, the shop, the night, the bottle. It made sense.

"Just go and sit down." I said, still straining to keep calm. She obliged, slumping on the sofa.

I turned and gingerly walked into the kitchen. It was a mess. It was going to take ages. Sighing, I bend down to pick the shards up.

* * *

45 minutes later and the kitchen was clean. I filled a glass up with water and carried it over to where Tris was lolling on the sofa. She was still a mess and a drunk one at that.

"Come on," I said gruffly, "Let's tidy you up." Tears were still making their way down her cheeks. Had she been crying since I got here? A pang of guilt wrenched at my stomach.

"Hey," I said, bending down in front of her, "I'm not angry. I promise. I understand, Tris, I get it. It's ok." She snuffled, her head bend down away from me. Gently, I took her hand and began rubbing the circles on it. "Come on." I said again, "Let's get you clean." I pulled gently on her hand and she reluctantly and unsteadily got to her feet, following me across to her bathroom door. I sat her down on the loo seat. Then, I noticed her hand. "Shit Tris, what have you done?" I said, panicked at the thick dried blood on her palm. Grabbing a flannel, I wet it and wiped at the blood. She winced.

"Sorry." I whispered, still wiping. Her mouth puckered.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Tobias' POV_**

_"__Sorry." I whispered, still wiping. Her mouth puckered. _

I stood up. "Be right back." I said. I walked back into the kitchen and attempted to find a first aid kit of some kind. As I made my way through the second cupboard, with still no success, the lights clicked off. So did the oven. _Damn it, power cut_. Cursing, I looked out the window. The lights across the road still shined in the darkening evening. It was just her building.

"Tris," I said re-entering the bathroom, "We're relocating. Come on." Still unfocused and drunk she gripped onto my hand as we walked out the room. Grabbing the keys hanging by her side table, I gingerly manoeuvred us both out the apartment and felt in the dark for the keyhole, locking the door. The whole time I could feel her leaning against me, the heat of her body radiating across to me. Her hand remained tucked into mine. We walked in silence to the elevator and stepped in. When the doors closed, she slumped against me, her full weight pressed on my side. I slipped an arm round her. _Holding her up_. Said the voice me my head. Yeah, holding her up.

By the time we were in the cruiser, she seemed to come to her senses a little. As the engine started, she turned, still with unfocused eyes to me. "Where…where are we going?"

I braced myself before I replied, preparing myself for the feelings that were about to be released when I spoke the words.

"To my apartment." I said, somewhat bluntly. She nodded, mutely and turned forward. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel. I'd said it, I'd said it, I'd said it. To. My. Apartment. There was no going back now. So much for professional.

When we got there she had fallen asleep. I picked her up gently in my arms, feeling that heat radiating from her again, feeling her breath that still smelt of whiskey fanning across my neck, her hair tickling me. She felt so alive and warm against me. She felt _good_.

As we entered my apartment, to find working lights (thank god) she didn't stir. I deposited her on my bed and went in search of a change of clothes for her, finding a large black t-shirt that was worn but soft. Returning, I was met with a curled up figure snuffling against one of my pillows. At my footsteps, she looked up. "It smells nice." she said sleepily. I felt an idiotic grin spread across my face. _Stop being so fucking immature_. Said the voice.

"Let's finally get you tidied up." I said lifting her again and taking her to the bathroom. Turning the shower on, I turned to find her already in only her underwear. I think I forgot how to breathe. She was… beautiful. Panicking I turned back to the shower. "Ill leave you to it." I said, breathlessly, walking back towards her and the door but purposefully looking up at the ceiling. As I approached, she didn't move but stood in the centre of the room. I gingerly pushed past, close enough that I brushed against her warm body. Her warm _naked_ body. Blushing, I all but piled out the room, slamming the door and leaning against it.

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. _screamed the voice in my head. This was all wrong. She was drunk and emotionally unstable. I shouldn't have brought her here. It was all so wrong and Uriah was going to _kill_ me.

_It's fine_. said the calm creature in me. _She can stay. You can sleep on the floor. Just take a few deep breathes, and calm down. She's drunk, that's all. She didn't know what she was doing. _

Still breathing heavily, I walked to the kitchen and set about making some hot chocolate for her. As I was pouring it in a mug, I heard the bathroom door behind me open and the soft padding of footsteps across the wooden floorboards.

"Hi." said a soft voice behind me, less slurred now the alcohol had time to wear off. Turning, I was met with her standing in my kitchen in my black t-shirt and her knickers, her hair damp, her face freshened and rosy from the hot shower.

"Hey," I breathed, trying to stop my eyes from scanning over her, drinking her in, "I made you some hot chocolate." _Pathetic. _She turned and walked towards the sofa, sitting down on it and curling her legs under her. On _my_ sofa. I walked across and passed her the mug. Her fingers lightly traced across mine as she took it. My heart stuttered. i sat down next to her.

A silence fell as she sipped at the hot chocolate and I watched her. Finally, she turned, her eyes nervous. "Sorry for… everything." she said softly, watching me closely.

"It's ok. It's fine, don't worry, I get why you did it." I said, trying to comfort her. She just nodded sadly and took another sip.

"I wanted to make you a cake." She said, grief seeming to etch every word, like she cared, _cared._

_"_That was nice." I replied, lamely, "Thank you." Silence fell again. Her slim fingers fidgeted at the mug handle and her foot tapped. After a couple of minutes, she put the mug down on the coffee table and clasped her hands together. I waited. The hands fell still and with determination she turned her head to me.

"I want…" she breathed, closing her mouth and then trying again, 'I want to try something." I didn't reply. Slowly she drew nearer, her eyes flashing between my eyes and my mouth, trying to gauge my reaction. Nearer, Nearer. All I could see were her eyes, grey and nervous and flickering. Her breath, a mixture of hot chocolate and mint tooth paste fluttered across my skin. Nearer, nearer. I waited and waited. Waited for the contact. Nearer. Nearer. If we spoke now, we would have kissed, she was so near. It took all my internal willpower not to finish this, to move forward and touch her.

Finally, her lips touched mine. Gentle, so gentle, like a whisper, they shaped themselves to mine. No movement, nothing. Just contact. And it ignited a fire. So hot, burning so intensely. All held in the single touch of our lips.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes finding mine, finding reassurance. I broke. My resistance crumpled. I moved forward, capturing her lips in mine, this time moving them against hers, learning their texture and hold, learning them, learning her. My hands wrapped themselves round her back, drawing her too me, desperate to feel some of that heat, that warmth again.

Her hands timidly moved up my chest, tracing patterns across it, igniting fires over my skin. She was warm and firm in my arms and her lips were soft and warm and firm and this, this was perfection. More than holding her, more than knowing her, _this_ was elysium.

Did seconds pass or minutes? Hours or centuries? It ended too soon and yet it lasted eternally. She pulled again slightly, hands still pressed to my chest, eyes bright and hair ruffled.

"I'm… really tired." She whispered, a small smile ghosting across her face.

"That's ok," I whispered. I gently picked her up again. How many times had I done this? But I didn't want to stop seeing her and feeling her and her warmth. I pulled the duvet of the bed back and placed her under it, before tucking her up gently. Timidly, I swept a lock of damp hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "Night." I breathed, leaning down and kissing her forehead. It was warm and soft on my lips. I went to stand.

I hand shot out and gripped my wrist. "Where are you sleeping?" she whisper, confusion lacing her voice.

"On the sofa." I said, "It's fine don't worry," Her forehead had creased, "I'll be comfy. You need to sleep."

She still said nothing. She seemed to be trying to find the words to speak and every cell in my body ached to hear the words I wanted to hear.

"Will you… will you stay with me here?" she all but mouthed, her eyes flicking across my face, "I don't want to be alone."

I could have pointed out that if I was on the sofa she wouldn't be alone. That it was in the same room. But I didn't because the moment she spoke my heart had all but burst. Of course I wouldn't leave her.

Walking round to the other side of the bed, I pulled of my jeans and my t-shirt, leaving just my boxers. It was how I always slept, I didn't think about it. But when I slipped under the duvet on the other side and her hand reached out towards me, it touched at my bare chest and faltered.

"Sorry, " I said panicking. She probably thought I was some prick who always tried this trick or something. "I can put a t-shirt on if you like."

"No," she breathed after a short pause, 'It's fine, I don't mind."

Wordlessly, I pulled her body towards mine, fitting its curves into mine so that her back lay against my chest. Her warmth radiated out again, filling me. I curled my arms round her.

A hand, small and filled with that radiating warmth, snaked its way into mine. As I shuffled to get comfortable, every wire in my body on fire at her closeness and my brain whirring maniacally trying to work out how I was ever going to sleep, the hand gently squeezed mine. It was reassurance. And thanks. And comfort. My return squeeze was the same reply but had an added unspoken word she wouldn't recognise. My squeeze was reassurance and thanks and comfort, but it was also love.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for not updating for ages - I've been on holiday! Just a warning that this chapter features strong ****language****and violence but, after an ask from a review, we see a bit of Tris' dauntless side! Hope you enjoy x**

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Tris' POV

I woke to firm, warm arms cradling me and my head tucked under his chin. In the bliss of imminent post-sleep, all I felt was a strange and all filling happiness surrounding me. He was murmuring gently, his lips soft against my hair. It took me a further minute to realise he was singing to himself. Not wanting to embarrass or stop him, I allowed myself to lie still, pretending to be asleep, enjoying the soft movement of his lips and the deep murmurings that vibrated through me from the top of my head.

That plan was scuppered by a sharp knock at the door to his apartment. Groaning, he pulled away from me out of the bed. Unconsciously, I let out a sleepy grumble and he chuckled, running his hand over my hair and tucking a strand behind my ear. "Back in a second, I promise." I heard his bare feet padding across his studio apartment, round the corner to the door. He opened it and a brief silence was then broken by sharp, stilted dialogue - dialogue I couldn't quite hear. Four's voice was recognisable. Deep, heavy and rumbling, but as sounds not words floating back into the flat and towards me. He sounded angry.

Curious, I slid out of bed and tip toed quietly to the corner of the room. His apartment was all one room, (except for the tiny bathroom at one end) and shaped like an L so I was able to creep nearer to the door without being seen. As I reached the corner, the murmuring voices shaped themselves into words.

"I haven't seen you for ages, son. Just let me in and we can have a chat."

"You're not coming in. Just leave, OK?"

"Tobias, you're acting like a child. Grow up. For goodness sake, let me in."

"No."

"You've always been like this. So insolent. So suspicious. Stop being an idiot and step aside."

"I don't _want_ you here. I don't _want_ to talk."

"Is there someone else here? Is that it? Have you got some whore here serving you? That's it, isn't it? You've got some girl here who you've paid and you're too afraid to admit that to me. You can't get a real girl so you're buying them. Typical. Well I don't care. Just kick her out."

"There's no one here but me and I'm asking you to _leave_."

"Of course, of course, so who's that little bitch standing behind the corner spying on us, ey?" _Shit_. He'd seen me. Curious of who Four was talking to, I'd tried to peer round the corner, thinking they were so caught up in their argument, they wouldn't notice. The man was staring at me, or maybe leering was a better description, but Four hadn't turned to look. His back was turned and he was still staring at the man. The voice that emanated from him was cold, too cold, unnatural in the hatred that laced it.

"_What_ did you call her?"

The man flicked his eyes away from me and jeered at Four's face. 'I called her a bitch Tobias. I called your little whore a bitc-" He couldn't choke the last word out because as fast as lightening a fist had connected with his jaw, locking the last word between his teeth. The man stumbled backwards momentarily.

"Four…" I gasped, moving forward slightly, and I could hear reproach in my voice. But before the word had barely left me, the predator changed his stance and became the prey. Four had also stumbled back in what I thought was a kind of reaction to the force applied. But now he was cowering away from the man, cramping his body up. The man, in turn, was rising up, up, fury etched across his features.

"You dare?" he breathed and this slow, seething whisper was more threatening than any shout, "You dare?"

To my amazement, Four whimpered gently. He'd sunk against the wall now, cowering away, every nerve in him trembling. I couldn't make sense of the situation. I didn't understand. This was Four, an Officer, a member of the Chicago Police Department and he'd been that only seconds before. But now he was terrified, _terrified_, of a man who only moments before he'd hit. I felt like I was watching some TV drama I'd walked in on half way through. I couldn't make sense of the scene in front of me. The most I could recognise was that Four was acting like a scared dog afraid of it's master.

"I thought you'd learnt this lesson." The man continued walking towards Four, towering over him, "I thought we'd got over this. You _respect_ me, remember? You _respect me." _On each _respect, _the man forcibly hit Four over the head with a hand. Suddenly, he was all over him, kicking and thumping, his limbs flying towards the body slumped against the wall. Dull thuds repeated again and again and again. Panic filled my head as the scene played out, strange details lodging into my mind as the rest blurred into chaos. Two strong fists, tightly gripped and wedged against a chest trembling, soft whimpers, the heavy breathing of the predator, a splatter of deep ruby-red blood against the white wall. Another whimper. The hazy blue eyes searching, searching and finding me. The eyes closing.

"Stop." I didn't recognise the voice, though it had come from me. It was authoritative. It was powerful. It was furious. AS though disconnected, I saw my hand grip the man's wrist tightly, and I could feel my nails digging into his pasty skin. Amazingly, unexpectedly, ridiculously, he froze. His eyes, eyes that I only now saw to be a deep, rich blue, turned to mine. For a moment, a strange, calm silence expanded. The eyes, so like the ones I'd been staring into last night, asking for reassurance, for acceptance, for also so unlike those eyes. These blue orbs were cold and empty, devoid of kindness or feeling. They were blank. Hard.

The silence broke. He wrenched his wrist from my hand, as the power seeped away from me, his eyes not leaving mine.

"Good job your little bitch is so loyal." he spat before turning and stalking off down the corridor. I gently closed the door, taking time before turning around. After a pause, and a deep breath, I faced him. Four was lying against the wall, bent over holding his stomach. He held his body awkwardly. Sweat and blood flecks covered his torso. Blood was trickling out his nose, and down over his lip. A bruise was already swelling across his jawline. His eyes were cast down to his feet.

"Four?" I whispered, kneeling in front of him. "Are you OK?" Slowly his eyes lifted to meet mine, blue, hazy, wet and full of pain and embarrassment.

"Aren't you going to call me Tobias?" he choked, self-hatred and mockery filling his voice.

I didn't know what to say. What could I? Pathetically, I went for humour as if anything could lift the situation I was faced with.

"Only if you want me to." I whispered, reaching towards his hand and lacing my fingers with his.

Unexpectedly, he chuckled. It was soft and and pained and I could tell it hadn't reached that deep, but he chuckled. "I'm so sorry." He whispered after a pause, his eyes drifting back down to his feet. Gingerly, I moved closer, reaching my spare hand up to wipe the trickle of blood off his lip.

"Don't be stupid". I tipped my head up under his and felt our lips brush. I didn't know what had just happened. It was obvious he did. But questions could come later. Right now, all I cared about was the chuckle and the soft, wet lips that were pressed to mine. The rest could come later.


	12. Chapter 12

**OK, ****just****come back from a party and I am pretty drunk so this could be ****crazy****or good or shit I don't even know. It's short but I think it's OK. I just need to write write write. Revies are like amazing so thanks so ****mud! xxxx**

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**_Tobias POV_**

Shame flooded me. She'd seen me cower, seen me submit to his anger. I was nothing, I was tiny and she was beautiful and strong and amazing. She'd stopped him. When I was weak she had been brave.

Her lips against mine were heaven in a moment of hell. The soft, calm gentleness of them against mine, so smooth, so beautiful. The world was spinning and tilting but her lips grounded my balance, her lips grounded me.

I knew she wanted answers. Who he was, what I was. Tobias Tobias Tobias. No one except him and her knew now. I liked that she knew. I wish that he didn't.

Answers weren't going to come easy. How do you tell someone your worst nightmare is your father? How do you tell someone you can't fight that fear? Would she judge me? I judged myself. She was so brave, so beautiful, so courageous. I was a coward. She had stopped him. She had saved me.

"Are you OK?" she whispered against my lips, her fingertips skimming my ribs, igniting a fire in my belly. In answer I snuggled into her shoulder, pressing my lips to the pulse at the base of her neck, feeling the hot pounding that proved she was living and breathing; it made me live and breath and exist.

"Want to talk later?" she questioned, her hand running gently down my cheek, cupping my chin. I nodded stiffly but it wasn't for now: now was for feelings, not talking. Right now I just wanted her.

She stood up stiffly and pulled me up with a hand. My ribs dragged at me in pain, my head span but I followed her back to the bed. "It's saturday, right?" she said, "No work today." She pulled me down onto the bed, her arms tucked around my waist. "It's OK" she whispered, "I'm here, you're safe, It's OK." I smirked at her words and pulled her into my chest. She smelt of sleep and lavender. I gripped her in my arms, focusing on her, begging with my eyes for her to stay, to not leave, because she was mine. Mine. I couldn't think straight except for that. She was mine. My Tris. She lay down next to me, curling her body against mine. Bliss? Elysium? No nothing like that. Just her. Tris. She was all the heavens. Tris.

I mouthed against her neck, kissing and sucking. Marking her. Mine. Anything to remove the pain and embarrassment. Anything to forget. To show her that I was better than I'd seemed, stronger. My hands moved forward, to her hips, gripping them. Anchoring myself to them, to her. She stiffened.

"It's OK." I breathed, trying to communicate this feeling, this need to her. "I'm sorry. It's OK" She relaxed slightly and I felt her hands, mirroring mine, on my hips: soft, warm, firm.

Slowly, so slowly, I raised my own palms, up, up up, each centimetre taking a lifetime, until they brushed the undercarriage of her breasts. The swell, the soft soft swell. Moving up and down, up and down as she breathed. I felt the breath, the intake of air, but also the exhale, pushing them into my hand and the warmth. They moved as she moved.

"Tris" I breathed. I didn't know what else to say. Her breast heaved slightly. It was almost to much and yet never enough. She was here, so near, so so near. And mine.

I didn't move. I didn't even squeeze. I just felt her gentle weight against my palm and her slow breathing against my ear.

Tris Tris Tris.

Her lips brushed my neck. I shivered. What was she? What was this creature the blocked everything but her from my mind? She was beautiful. She was mine.

"Tris." I whispered again, against her hair. "Tris." She removed the thoughts of him and my life. _She _ was my life. At least, at this moment, in that minute and second she was. Tris. Tris. Tris.


	13. Chapter 13

**I think a lot of you are right - I was ****better****when I was drunk! ah well, here's a more sober update. Thank you so much for all your reviews some of them are so kind, and I'd like to give a special thanks to ForeverMakeBelieve and TrissyPoo. The first because they wrote the nicest, ****kindest, most lovely review and the second because they've reviewed every chapter I've written are are really supportive and amazing! So thanks you two. Enjoy! **

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Tris' POV

He woke at around midday as I was applying ice to his bruises. As his eyes, still swathed in sleep, found mine, I smiled gently: an apology for the cold ice.

We didn't speak as I returned the melting ice to the bowl between my legs and collected some fresh pieces in the clothe before holding it to another bruise. The silence wasn't awkward, but it was pregnant. Finally, as I returned the ice to the bowl a second time, he spoke, staring straight up at the ceiling, in a quiet voice.

"I guess this is later." I nodded before realising he wasn't looking at me and answering verbally.

"Yeah."

I turned and placed the bowl on the bed side table. When I returned to my cross-legged position beside him, his hand snaked up and found mine, wrapping around my fingers tightly. He exhaled. Still staring straight up at the ceiling, he started.

"I don't know when it began. I was too young to remember. It's always been there: it's just part of my life. It wasn't so bad when I was really young - I think my mother got the brunt of his fury. But she left when I was 5. I can't _ever_ forgive her for that. For leaving me as a 5 year old boy with him."

At the _ever, _his teeth had gritted and the pressure on my hand increased. I tried rubbing the circles he did on the back of his palm but my thumb was barely big enough to cover the whole area. His eyes flickered shut. He breathed deeply, trying to regulate his breaths. After a moment, he opened his eyes and returned to the ceiling staring.

"From then on it got progressively worse. Prepuberty it was generally verbal abuse but he hit me around a bit. But as I grew older and stronger he needed to prove he was better or something. Stronger. The beatings got worse. Somedays I wouldn't be able to go to school. He tried to keep it where I could cover it up but he'd get over excited and go too far. High school was hell. They wanted me to play football because I was good: I could have been really good. I reckon I could have. But he'd hurt me and then I couldn't play and I'd be dropped to a substitute. And the changing rooms were a nightmare, trying to hide everything as we dressed. And that would give him more reasons to do it. He'd say I was a failure. A fucking failure."

He paused again and gripped my hand and I saw the half-glimmer of a film of tears coating his eyes.

"I think…no I know, that by one point I was starting to believe him. Somehow everything I tried or did went wrong and I saw the causation of this as me, not him. I had no one to really talk to. Don't get me wrong, I had friends. But they didn't know and in my mind telling was letting him win. I think everyone at school was wary of me. I was known for my temper. For my bluntness. I was judged on that. I tried, I really did, but everything was collapsing around me constantly and being kind wasn't high on my list of surviving each day. He'd even use that against me. Telling me no one wanted to be my friend, that there was something wrong with me and as I grew older, he told me I wasn't a man. I wasn't good enough. That's why I never brought girls home. Now it's obvious: why the hell would I have brought girls home to him. But back then I believed him. I thought I was disgusting. Added to that, of course I couldn't have girls home because if i'd had a _girl_, I'd have had to show her the scars and the bruises and that was too much. I couldn't do that.

He paused once more, and his eyes turned to me. They searched nervously across my face before reaching my eyes. Then they frosted slightly and I saw the challenge. He was waiting for me to be disgusted, to freak out. Fear laced his stare, hidden by the challenge, the inherent acceptance that I might reject him. I stared back, refusing to turn or blink. Communicating that this was OK, I could accept this. His lip wobbled slightly and his brow crinkled before he turned back to the ceiling to continue, his voice on the brink of breaking but growing stronger as he spoke.

"It was only maybe half way through being a senior that I began to really resent him. I'd been getting close to my friend Uriah. I don't know how it happened but I trusted him for no obvious reason. So I let him in a bit. Didn't tell him, mind you, but let him in. But he got suspicious. Why I never came to parties, why I never came swimming. I was living a half life: I existed as a friend at school but I could never offer him friendship beyond the school gates. He'd get angry sometimes: other times he'd question me and dig too deep and I'd get angry at him. But he found out in the end. My father had gone away on a business trip for a weekend and I'd invited Uriah over with some other guys for a drink. Later, it had been just me and Uriah and he'd gone somewhere, the loo or something I don't know, and Marcus had come home. He'd found me in the kitchen cleaning up the mess from the get together and had flipped. Uriah found me ten minutes later being attacked by him. He was brilliant: he didn't freak out or panic. He just took me to his house and I stayed there for the rest of the year. His mum was lovely. Marcus tried to visit but I refused. When I graduated, I didn't go to college like he wanted me to but I joined the police department with Uriah. And I found my niche, the place I belonged. A place where you had to be strong and brave but also intelligent and honest and selfless and kind."

He turned his head to me, and gripped my hand with both his, staring into my eyes again, pleading for me to understand him.

"I'm terrified I'm like him at the bottom of it all. I'm scared… scared that as much as I build up the other traits, I'm still essentially genetically him. I try.. I really try to be the others. I'm physically strong but also mentally after everything. And I like to think I'm brave. I think I'm intelligent. I'm as honest as I can be. The selflessness comes easy: growing up constantly having to blend in and be unnoticeable makes you that. I continually struggle with kindness. But I'm working on it."

His lip was wobbling again and his eyes burned into mine, terrified and yet set. I realised he was waiting for me to say something. To calm him or to reject him. It pained me that he really thought I might just stand up and leave.

"I would say I'm sorry." I whispered, bending down so that my forehead was pressed to his, "But it would seem inadequate. What can a sorry do to improve any of this? But I will tell you something." I lifted up slightly so that I could see this whole face.

"You are brave." I whispered again, gently kissing one of his cheeks: a brush, nothing more.

"You are strong." A kiss on the other cheek this time.

"You are intelligent." On the forehead.

"You are honest." A kiss between the eyebrows.

"You are selfless." On the tip of the nose.

"And you are, without reserve or limitation, one of the kindest people I have met." This time his lips, one still trembling slightly. A soft, damp, warm, kiss.

His arms pulled me to him, over him, crushing me against the blood specked t-shirt he was wearing. One of his hands cradled my face, a finger hooked behind my ear and he deepened the kiss, tugging at my lower lip, nipping, his tongue slipping into my mouth.

He paused and and leaned my forehead against him, eyes shut, breathing heavily.

"Tris, open your eyes." he whispered, his breath fanning across my face. I did, connecting instantly with the two shining blue eyes in front of mine.

"Tris," he said again, licking his lips gently, "I think I might be in love with you."

I don't say it back. Because like him, I'm not sure. I don't know what love really is. Instead, I press my lips to his once again and melt into him: his warmth and strength and solidness.

Against my lips, he mumbles something. "What?" I whisper.

"I said," he replies, pulling back slightly from me make himself audible, "I really _do_ need to get your statement today."


	14. Chapter 14

**Everyone I am so so so so so so so sorry, so sorry! I've been interrailing around Europe for a month so I haven't been able to update at all and I came back to loads of messages asking for an update - so here it is! I hope it's ok. It's gets a little lemony so I might hike it up to an M rating but I promise there is nothing explicit! Once again, really really sorry for the lack of updates and I hope this makes up for it and I promise to update more regularly now I'm back! xx**

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He did, eventually, get my statement. That day, after he'd showered and I'd made breakfast, we'd sat down and done it. It was painful and horrible and lasted for what seemed hours but finally it was out. Four wrote it down, bit by bit, until every last detail was hammered out onto the page. In the end, I gave up trying to stem the tears because they just kept rising up furiously inside me and spilling. But when they did, he gently wiped them away. My hands, that shook and fisted, were pulled into his and rubbed. At the end of it, when I was a shattered, exhausted mess, he pulled me onto his lap and held me tight, rocking me as I sobbed and whispering a comforting mantra of "It's OK, You're Safe, I'm Here, You're Safe" in my ear.

They still hadn't caught the man in my shop. Since the night of my mistaken panic, I hadn't been alone in my flat without Four. I knew that at the end of this week Christina, who had lengthened her stay at her parents house, would be coming home, but the rest of the week faced me like a black void of the unknown. Four had to go to work and that meant I'd have to be alone in the flat.

"You'll be fine, I promise." he kept repeating that afternoon as we sat huddled together under a blanket on the couch. My silence spoke my doubt and panic. A storm of terror was sitting somewhere in my chest rumbling and brewing as each though cascaded into my mind and left it of the hands and the gun and the voice.

"Just lock the doors and be vigilant, that's all" he continued, twisting a lock of my hair between his fingers, momentarily pushing the panic from my system and causing a shiver to rocket down my spine. "If you get scared call me and I'll come or I'll send one of the guys to stand at the door. Remember, we're here for you, yeah? But I don't think you'll need us, you'll be brave."

Spikes of anger prickled to the surface.

"You keep saying that," I whispered, staring straight ahead, "But I'm not, I'm really really not. I'm trying I really am but inside…I'm…I'm.." red, hot humiliation flooded my face, "I'm fucking terrified. Every time I think I've forgotten something it comes back, something triggers and suddenly every sound, every shadow is him and I can't get him to leave! And he's out there and I can't do anything and all I am is sitting here waiting and waiting and every minute I think this is it, he's back and it's OK when you're here but what about when you aren't? I just…I just can't" I sobbed and tears poured out my eyes. My breath was stilted and I gasped for air as more sobs racked me, squeezing my lungs.

"Shh, shh, Tris it's OK, it's OK" he whispered in my ear, wrapping his arms round me and tucking his head into my shoulder. After a moment, his fingers found my chin and twisted my face towards his. "Look at me Tris," he commanded, "_Look_ at me. Everybody is scared. No one is fearless. I'm a cop, Tris, and I'm scared of my own fucking father," he whispered, bitterness lacing his voice, "you've every right to be scared, every right to be terrified, but you've also got every right to be brave. And Tris, you are you really really are."

I huffed and turned my head away. I wasn't ready to listen to some crap about inner strength and bravery coming from what I'd been through. The therapist at the hospital had spewed enough rubbish about how I was brave simply for existing on earth. I wasn't going to listen to the same stuff from him now. Four didn't speak when I'd turned at first and a pause filtered between us.

And then.

"You hit him."

I turned my head back. "What?"

"You hit him." I waited for some explanation, some continuation but none, at first came. We just sat, me on his lap, him holding me close, so close I could feel the steady thump of his heart and the low rise of his lungs.

He broke the silence. "No ones done that for me. But you hit him. And you weren't, weren't scared. You weren't panicked. You just said no to him. You just hit him. You stopped him."

Another pause. I had no idea what to say. The origins of the conversation had long since escaped from me. I felt like everything was focused on him, on what he was saying, on what was coming next.

"You can be scared of that…man that hurt you. You can be so terrified that you beg me to never leave, that's ok Tris," he said, his voice suddenly trembling and his deep blues eyes swimming up through a wet film to find mine, "But you stood between me and my dad and stopped him. And that makes you brave. More brave than me. More brave the Uriah. So be scared, be so fucking scared Tris, but never, ever say you aren't brave because you are. Because you're selfless. And that makes you so so fucking brave." His voice broke at the end.

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't think of anything. His emotion had crept up so fast, the conversation had switched so quickly and so all I could do was kiss him roughly trying to pull all the pain and the sadness from him, draw it out of him, make him forget or not think or something. Just stop the pain and hurt that was piling up behind his eyes.

Our other kisses had been gentle, cautious. This one was angry and desperate. His teeth bit hungrily at my lips, bruising them. His tongue pushed its way into my mouth sliding over my teeth and jabbing at my own tongue. Our mouths mashed together clumsily, wet tears still sliding between our cheeks. His hands moved across me, one gripping my side tightly, the other wrapping my hair in its grasp, clinging to my neck, lifting my face to his, holding me there. I thought I would panic - I'd been panicking about this all weekend, what would happen, how I'd feel but nothing mattered in that moment. And nothing flashed back. He was safety and security. His large hands were warm and strong as they glided across my back and dipped under my shirt, fanning across my hot skin. His body, tight and coiled and pressed against mine was home. There was no room for fear when everything was on fire and electric, when every part of him that touched me made the hotness inside me purr and stretch. His ferocity was release and comfort and I returned it, trying to block out the pain and confusion of life just as he was blocking out his. When finally his mouth moved down to my neck nipping and sucking, I was panting and hot and flushed, straddling his lap. I could feel his excitement pressed against my thigh, as his hands roamed my back, pulling me tighter and closer and nearer.

"Tobias.." I breathed heavily. He moaned something against my neck, as his hand moved forward and began tracing my stomach under my shirt."Tobias." I couldn't think anything else, couldn't process anything except him and how he was making me pant and shiver. His tongue traced the contours of my collar bone, his hands reaching higher and higher, his fingertips brushing against the underwire of my bra, as he bucked himself closer against me, holding me flush to him.

A new panic flooded me. One that gripped me and lessened the fire. "No, Tobias, stop." I panted, confusion muddling in with the want and the heat. He paused for an instant, his mouth hot against my neck, his hands frozen against my skin, and then suddenly he recoiled away leaning back.

"I'm sorry Tris, I'm so so sorry," he panted, his eyes still dark but his brow creased, "I didn't think, I… This was a bad idea."

"No," I interrupted realising what he thought, "It's not that, I'm not, not scared. Well I am, but not because…" I felt a blush storm across my cheeks and I ducked down. I had no idea how to say this, what to say. I closed my eyes. Breathe. Breathe. I looked up and let out the air.

"Tobias, I've never _done_ this. I.." I faulted, "I don't know…how…well.." the blush deepened. I felt like an idiot.

"Neither." he said softly, leaving the word to hang in the hot air between us, as the hand he'd removed crept back to my waist and his breathing slowed. "But you were right to stop, I don't want to do anything more on a couch at 4pm in the afternoon, when we've both been crying and look like frogs." I laughed as relief flooded me. He was the same. We were the same.


End file.
